


Apple Juice In A Scotch Glass

by QueenBoudicatheGreat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anti Steve sentiment, Canon Divergence, Gen, References to Alcohol, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, but he means well, in other words, in this house we say FUCK YOU to Endgame and everything it stands for, no really he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 11:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudicatheGreat/pseuds/QueenBoudicatheGreat
Summary: Peter was about ready to scream. If he heard the phrase “You heard him, kid. Cap’s call, hop to,” leave Tony Stark's mouth one more time, he was going to-- He was going to-- Well, he was going to do something, and it wouldn't be very nice, he knew that much.Peter learns that sometimes being a supportive mentor/father figure is hard when you're also trying to keep a team of live bombs strapped together with zip ties and hope.





	Apple Juice In A Scotch Glass

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first half of this for a writing competition between me and KC last summer and finished it in a blur this afternoon because I have no self control. Literally all of Endgame can kiss my ass.

Peter was about ready to  _ scream _ . If he heard the phrase “You heard him, kid. Cap’s call, hop to,” leave Tony Stark's mouth one more time, he was going to-- He was going to-- Well, he was going to do something, and it wouldn't be very nice, he knew that much. For now, though, all he could do was sulk around the Compound and curse himself for begging May to let him stay the night. 

 

It was no secret Peter wasn't Captain America's biggest fan. Sure, he used to be when he was younger, but as the saying goes, never meet your heroes. (He could attest that that wasn't always true, but it worked in this situation.) So, having Steve Rogers come marching into the Compound like he owned the place, flanked by Sam, Natasha, Clint, and Wanda had rather ruffled Peter's proverbial feathers. Having him take over his role as leader again and completely throwing off Peter and Tony's thing hadn't helped the situation. The last straw was him constantly underestimating Peter, no matter how many times Peter tried to tell him he could do more or how hard he worked to prove himself in training. He hadn't tried to work this hard to impress someone since his first few months with Tony as his mentor. The only difference was Peter had known when he was impressing Tony.

 

Things had been practically perfect when it was just Peter, Tony, and Rhodey kicking around the Compound as the heroes on staff. Peter knew that Tony didn't invite him on every mission (to be fair, bad guys seem to act weekdays between the hours of eight and three) but he was invited on a lot. There were more than a few that Peter knew Tony could have easily handled on his own, but Tony still called him in. Peter had even got to call the shots a couple times. Most importantly, every time Peter did something well, Tony made sure to point it out, to an almost embarrassing extent. He usually mentioned something about a cycle of shame that concerned Peter, but Tony insisted it was fine. Peter was honestly living in a dream come true. For two whole years. 

 

And then Captain Steven Grant Rogers had waltzed straight into Peter's life and mucked it all up. 

 

It wouldn't have been quite so bad if Tony had stayed leading the team. Peter knew from experience that he would be good at it. Tony was excellent at communication, he came up with brilliant plans on the fly, he knew everyone’s capabilities, and most importantly, he knew how to listen to other people. Granted, Steve was good at all of that, too. Well, most of it. He was really good at getting the point across and he had good ideas and he knew pretty much everyone’s strengths and weaknesses. Unfortunately, he had a bad habit of getting something in his head and refusing to rework it at all. It was frustrating as hell, to be quite honest.

 

“I am listening, Tony!”

 

“No, you’re not, and you know damn well that you’re not!”

 

Peter froze, his hand extended towards the kitchen door. He briefly marveled at the fact that he’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard the very raised voices coming from the other side until it was almost too late. So much for enhanced senses.

 

“He’s a  _ kid _ ,” Steve said emphatically. “You know I can’t put a kid in harm’s way with anything approaching good conscience. It’s bad enough that you’re letting him swing around Queens like he does.”

 

Peter scowled. Great, they were talking about him. A bitter taste settled on his tongue as he waited for Tony to calm his breathing and reply. He knew what it would be, though. Tony would just sigh and tell Steve he was right and everything would go back to normal.

 

“I’m not asking you to put a kid in danger. Steve, that’s  _ my _ kid, of course I don’t want him hurt.” The taste somehow got more bitter and Peter scowled and turned away. Even that bright bloom of pride he felt every time Tony called him his kid didn’t help. He didn’t need to hear the rest. “I am asking you to get your head out of your ass and trust me, though.” Or maybe he did.

 

Peter leaned in and pressed his ear to the door. He didn’t need to in the slightest, but there was something about listening with his ear to the door that always got him excited.

 

“How can you ask me to do that when at the same time you’re dragging Peter into fights that are way too big for him?” Steve asked, and Peter could practically see him crossing his arms and giving Tony that stony-faced scowl of disappointment Peter had become so well acquainted with.

 

“Because he’s my kid and I know him. I’ve worked with him for two years. I’ve trained him myself. If I tell you he’s good to go on a mission, then you can bet your ass that he’s got more than enough skills to handle whatever it is.” Peter heard the familiar sound of Tony ruffling his own hair and scratching his beard like he always did when he was anxious. “Right now all you’re doing is frustrating him and pushing him away. To make matters worse, I have to agree with you, and it’s making him mad at me, too. Look, I’m not saying that we should throw him at whatever bozo with a gun wanders up next, but you need to let him help at least some. You told him to stay on the goddamn jet today. That’s not fair.”

 

“I told him to stay on the jet because he would have gotten killed out there.  _ That’s _ not fair.”

 

“I just told you that if I bring him, he’s good. Are you trying to tell me you think you know Peter better than I do? What in that isn’t making sense to you, exactly, so I can maybe reword it so it gets through that superhuman skull of yours?”

 

“The part where you’ve somehow let your own pride and ego blind you enough that you think it’s okay to make child soldiers and go totally against what the team has decided.”

 

Tony was silent for a beat, and Peter could feel the anger through the door. He had sensed Tony’s temper getting shorter and shorter, but apparently that was too far. “Oh, that’s  _ fucking rich _ , Rogers. I have bent over backwards time and time again to keep this shit show of a team together, and you’re gonna stand there and--”

 

“Boss, Peter has been standing outside the door for the past two minutes,” FRIDAY chirped from her disembodied home in the ceiling. The door suddenly swung open and Peter found himself stumbling into the kitchen. Tony and Steve were standing on opposite sides of the room and staring at him with their arms crossed. The air was thick with tension and Peter idly wondered if this is what kids felt like when they accidentally stumbled across their parents arguing. He wrinkled his nose and quickly backtracked on that thought. 

 

“What are you doing up, Peter?” Steve said in that “you’ve disappointed Captain America” voice of his. “It’s well past midnight.”

 

“Drop it, Rogers,” Tony said, narrowing his eyes at Steve. “I’ll take care of this.” Steve opened his mouth to say something, but looked between Tony and Peter a couple times before changing his mind. Instead, he shook his head and stomped out of the kitchen, leaving only Peter and Tony.

 

Shit.

 

Peter stood perfectly still with his face screwed up, ready for the dressing down that was surely coming. Tony didn't yell at him very often and only when he was coming down from a panic attack over Peter almost dying, but that tense conversation with Steve and the fact Peter had been eavesdropping probably didn't make for a good mix in the “no yelling” department. But the yelling never came. 

 

Instead, Peter popped open one eye when he heard Tony open the fridge and watched the man grab a bottle of apple juice and a pair of tumblers. He then kicked out a barstool, sunk heavily onto it, and offered Peter the second glass with a wry smile. “Juice? Looks kind of like scotch in the right light, so it can actually take the edge off. Human brain is amazing, isn't it?”

 

Peter sat down on the other barstool and watched Tony add a couple ice cubes and an inch or two of juice. He took a moment to actually get a good look at Tony for the first time in weeks, and he didn't really like what he saw. He looked tired. Exhausted, even. Peter suddenly felt a bit guilty that he'd been so caught up in how the Ex-Avengers’ return was affecting him, he didn't stop to think what toll it was taking on Tony. “Thank you,” he said softly, running his finger around the lip of the glass. “Like a lot, I mean. Thanks, a lot.”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow and a smirk curled over his lips, and for the first time Peter didn't find it comforting. He almost would have preferred Tony wearing sunglasses inside to being met with the same casual smirk as paparazzi. “Kid, lighten up. It's a glass of juice. I'll buy you a whole juice company if you want.”

 

“I wasn't talking about the juice.”

 

Tony opened his mouth, the retort almost visible on his tongue before he pursed his lips closed. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“How often do you and Captain Rogers fight?”  _ How often is it about me? _

 

"Don't worry about it," Tony said immediately. "Adults argue. Adults who are both stubborn and disagree on some fundamental levels argue a lot."

 

"That wasn't really an answer."

 

"No, it wasn't."

 

Peter bit the inside of his lips and just watched Tony swirl his glass around, the ice clinking softly against the glass in the silent kitchen. He never thought he'd long for the hum and occasional ominous clicking from the fridge at the apartment, but the high end appliances didn't make a sound and the quiet was suffocating. He knew what he needed to say next, but the thought of them made his tongue feel like damp sand. Heavy and useless and somehow too wet and dry at the same time. There was also a lump in his throat and a sting in his eye that he had absolutely no intention of even thinking about. "Do you want me to quit the Avengers?"

 

Tony jerked his head around eyes wide. Some of his apple juice sloshed over onto his fingers with the movement. "What? No. Of course not. What kind of question is that?"

 

Peter furrowed his brow and stared down at his own glass. He kept flexing his fingers subconsciously and for a second he worried he was going to shatter it all over his hands. Yet another one of his messes for Tony to clean up. "If I wasn't part of the Avengers, you and Captain Rogers wouldn't fight so much. I heard the conversation; I know it wasn't the first time you've had it. I mean, I'm sure you guys will argue over other stuff, but at least that's one less thing to worry about."

 

Tony didn't say anything and Peter gritted his teeth to hold back the tears. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't hoped Tony would immediately rebuke the idea like he had at first. But he wasn't going to cry about it. At least not in front of Tony. No need to offer absolute proof that he wasn't adult enough to be an Avenger. His fingers flexed again. 

 

"Kid." Peter didn't look up. He couldn't. He couldn't look his hero in the face as he was told he wasn't good enough. He didn't even care if it was childish. He wasn't going to do it. 

 

To his surprise big, calloused hands folded over his own and unwrapped his fingers from the glass. He didn't even have to focus on keeping his fingers from trembling because Tony had them held tight in his own. He never noticed how small his hands were compared to his mentor's. "Peter, please look at me." 

 

Peter instinctively did as he was asked, eyes wide. Tony never called him Peter. It was always Kid, Pete, Underoos, buck, or whatever Tony could think of off the top of his head. Never Peter though. "Mr. Stark?"

 

Tony was smiling at him. Proper smiling, too. It was still very tired and now a little sad, but it was real and that's all that mattered. "Peter, I don't want you to quit. Not unless you want to."

 

"I don't," Peter said, the words tripping over each other in their rush to leave his mouth. "But what about Captain Rogers?"

 

"You leave Capsicle to me, all right?"

 

"But--"

 

"Ah ah ah! No buts!" Peter tried to hide a smile,  recognizing the tone of voice as the same used on the bots when they were dumping oil on the floor in the lab. Tony's face softened. "I'll go up to bat for you any day, you got that?" Peter nedded. "Good. I know it's been tough on you and I'm sorry for that. And I'm even more sorry for not communicating. We should be past getting mad at one another because I didn't bother to let you in, and that's on me."

 

"It's okay, Mr. Stark." It wasn't okay. Not really. But it definitely would be, and Peter was more than okay with that. 

 

"Hang in there, kiddo. Thing's are gonna get better."

 

*_*_*_*_*_*

 

"Okay, team, listen up!"

 

Peter grimaced as Steve started on assignments, but schooled his features into the eager acquiesce that was expected of him. He didn't want to be told to hang back again, but after last week he knew he was going to do everything he could to make it as easy as he could for Tony. If Tony was going to go up to bat for him, he was going to give him something to swing at. It was the least he could do. He could do this. Just stay back and web up any strays, like always. 

 

"Peter, you're--"

 

"With me. Right, Cap?" Tony cut in, giving Steve a pointed look. 

 

Steve didn't look happy about it, but nodded. "Right. You're Tony's backup. If things are looking hairy, it's your job to get you out of there." He gave Tony a stern look. " _ Both _ of you."

 

Tony gave him a lazy salute and started backing out of the jet. "On it. Climb on, Kid, time to blast off."

 

Peter was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, and he knew he looked a bit silly. He couldn't find it in his heart to care at all. "Coming, Mr. Stark!" he chirped, yanking on his mask. Then, with one hand stuck Tony's back, he saluted the remaining heros and flew off to the battle. 


End file.
